


The Cage

by Anonymous



Category: Real News RPF
Genre: Biting, Cock Cages, Dirty Talk, Light Dom/sub, M/M, One-Sided Phone Sex, Orgasm Control, PWP, Possessive Behavior, Pre-Come, Slight Cock & Ball Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 15:21:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/851062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: <em>Anderson agreed to indulge Keith by wearing a chastity device while he was away for a week doing a 60 Minutes story. What he didn't expect was Keith calling every night to torment him and jack off - and he really didn't expect to love it so much.</em></p><p>  <em>MAJOR bonus points: When Anderson gets home, Keith fucks him before taking the chastity device off.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cage

Keith walks into their bedroom just as Anderson is zipping up his duffle bag. “All packed?” he asks.  
  
“Yep,” Anderson says. “I just need to wait for the taxi.” He goes to step past Keith in the doorway, but his partner grabs his arm.  
  
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asks, smirking.  
  
“Oh. Right.” He follows Keith over to the bed and watches as he opens the nightstand drawer and takes out a box that arrived in the mail a week ago, just a few days after Anderson agreed to this. “I still don’t see how it’s going to be enjoyable to me, though.”  
  
“If you hate it, you know you can use your safeword, right?”  
  
“Yeah. ‘Bill-O’.”  
  
Keith winces dramatically. “A word guaranteed to kill any arousal.”  
  
“That’s why I picked it,” Anderson confesses with a mischievous smile.  
  
“Brat. Come here,” Keith says, sitting down on the edge of the bed and tugging Anderson closer by his waistband. When Anderson is standing right in front of him, Keith undoes Anderson’s fly and pushes his jeans and briefs down to around his knees.  
  
“Can I get a blowjob for the road?” Anderson asks, as the proximity of Keith’s mouth to his cock brings back all kinds of pleasant memories.  
  
Keith glances at his watch. “Do you have time for one?”  
  
“Probably not,” he replies regretfully. “I guess last night will have to hold me over.”  
  
Keith opens the box and takes out what Anderson has come to think of as “the cage”, although technically it’s called a CB-6000 chastity device. It’s clear plastic, with a ring that fits behind his balls and attaches to piece that goes on his cock. It has holes for ventilation and, supposedly, so he can still pee at a urinal. He’s only had it on once before, for a few minutes, to check that it fits and is comfortable. He wouldn’t be able to ride his bike while wearing it, but for what he’ll be doing for the next five days, it’ll be fine.  
  
It takes Keith a few minutes to connect all the parts and put it on him, and then he reaches into the box again and comes out with a plastic lock, which he fits through the slot in the device and clicks shut. He notes down the number printed on the lock before putting the box back.  
  
“Feel alright?” he asks.  
  
“It’s a little awkward, but it doesn’t hurt.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
Anderson pulls his underwear and pants back up, noting as he does so that Keith’s own pants are tighter than they were when he sat down.  _Well_ , he thinks,  _at least he has to go without, too._    
  
It doesn’t occur to him until later that he could be wrong about that.  


  
The story for 60 Minutes is one of his lighter assignments, a profile of an up-and-coming fashion designer. Anderson thinks the producers must have picked him for it through a mistaken belief that his mother has passed on some of her knowledge. He spends quite a lot of his spare time researching.  
  
The first night, he’s settled into his hotel bed with his laptop and a notebook when his Blackberry rings. He glances at it to see who’s calling before he answers. “Hi, Keith. Miss me already?”  
  
Keith’s chuckle comes through the speaker, warm and low. “I was going to ask you the same thing. Have you been thinking about when you get back, and I let you out again?”  
  
Truthfully, Anderson hasn’t thought much about the cage other than to note what position is most comfortable for sitting and to be grateful that he can, in fact, use a urinal, but he knows that’s not what his boyfriend is hoping to hear. “Oh, yeah,” he lies, playing along. “I can’t wait.”  
  
Keith laughs again. “Well, you’re going to have to, aren’t you? I’ll know if you cut the cage off, and then I’d have to punish you.”  
  
“I won’t cut it off,” Anderson promises.  
  
“No, you’re all mine, aren’t you? You can’t even jerk off without my permission.”  
  
Keith’s voice is low and rough, planting a suspicion in Anderson’s mind. “Are  _you_  jerking off right now, Keith?” he asks.

“Yeah. Second time I have today. The first was right after you left for the airport. I keep thinking about you, all locked up. How it would hurt if you started to get hard, reminding you who your dick belongs to. It’s not yours, is it, Anderson?”  
  
Anderson may not share this particular kink of Keith’s, but his reptile brain still has a Pavlovian response to the promise of sex in that tone. He feels the first stirrings of an erection, and wonders if Keith’s right about it hurting.  
  
“Anderson?” Keith asks again, a little more forcefully. “Who does your dick belong to?”  
  
“You, Keith,” he answers, surprised at the spike of arousal he feels as he says it. “I’m yours.”  
  
Keith moans, barely audibly. “What are you wearing?”  
  
Anderson rolls his eyes at the cliched question. “A t-shirt and boxers.”  
  
“Take them off and lie on your bed.”  
  
“Why? It’s not like I can do anything,” he points out. “It seems a bit unfair, really, to make me listen to you jerk off when I’m helpless.”  
  
“That’s the  _point_ , Anderson,” Keith says, sounding smugly amused along with aroused. “This isn’t about fairness. Do what I tell you, or I’ll leave you locked up for a whole day after you get back.”  
  
Anderson opens his mouth to protest, then stops abruptly when he realizes that it does, in fact, hurt to get a full-on erection while wearing the cage.  _The hell?_  he thinks. The pain makes his cock soften a bit, but he can’t deny that he’s getting turned on not just by Keith’s arousal but by the scenario itself now.  
  
“Hang on,” he says, finally, and sets the Blackberry down to move his laptop and notebook out of the way and then pull his t-shirt over his head and wiggle out of his boxers. He looks curiously at his cock and discovers that it’s swollen to fill what little space remained inside the cage, and there’s a drop of pre-come forming on the tip. Picking up the Blackberry again, he says “Okay, I’m naked,” and curses the new breathy quality in his voice that Keith is sure to pick up on.  
  
Sure enough, Keith asks, “You’re getting hard now, aren’t you?”  
  
“Yes. As much as I can. You’re right, it’s a little painful.”  
  
“You can touch yourself if you want. Go ahead.”  
  
For a second, Anderson dares to hope that Keith means he can cut the cage off, but then he realizes that there’s no way Keith would stop now. And surprisingly, he’d be a little disappointed if Keith did. His free hand hesitantly wraps around the plastic, but the small amount of sensation he’s getting from where he can touch his cock through the ventilation holes isn’t nearly enough to be satisfying. Still, more pre-come leaks out. He scoops it up with his first two fingers and laughs, weakly.  
  
“I didn’t know it was possible for me to produce pre-come when I’m in this thing,” he says.  
  
“Are you?” Keith asks, sounding pleased. “Rub it on your fingers and suck them. Imagine it’s my dick.”  
  
Anderson closes his eyes and brings his hand to his mouth, pushing his fingers between his lips roughly like Keith always does with his cock. The bitter taste of pre-come overlaying the saltiness of his skin adds to the illusion.  
  
“Are you doing it?”  
  
“Mmm-hmm,” he hums around his fingers. His cheeks hollow as he sucks on them and then pulls them out with a wet  _pop_. “Wish it was really you,” he murmurs.  
  
“God, Andy,” Keith groans. His breathing is heavier now; Anderson can tell he’s closer to the edge. “If I were there, I would fuck your mouth ’til your lips were bruised, and you’d still be locked up, because I’m the one that decides if you get to come, aren’t I?”  
  
Anderson’s hand is cupped around his balls now, massaging them. He knows that adding more stimulation is only going to make it worse, but he can’t help it. “Yes, Keith. Please, I want to come. Please let me take it off?” he asks, his voice going higher with desperation.  
  
“No,” Keith says between breaths. “You have to wait. You hate that, don’t you? You’re so impatient. I’m going to teach you some patience. Teach you who you belong to.”  
  
“You. I belong to you.”  
  
“Yeah, you’re mine. Oh,  _fuck_. Fuck!”

Keith makes a strangled sound that can only mean he’s coming. Anderson’s hips arch off the bed in response, more pre-come dripping onto his hand. “Keith. God,” he pants.  
  
The only answer for a few seconds is more panting. Then Keith says, “Sweet dreams, Anderson. Talk to you tomorrow,” and the phone goes quiet in his hand.  
  
Anderson pulls it away from his ear and looks at the screen to see that the call has been ended. He lets his head fall back against the headboard and mutters “ _Bastard_ ” to his empty hotel room.  
  
  
  
The next day, he’s definitely more aware of the cage as he does his job. It’s not distracting, exactly, but it’s always there in the back of his head, along with the thought of Keith’s phone call and what Keith is going to say tonight when he calls again. He goes back to his hotel room in the evening and manages to get in an hour of research before his Blackberry rings.  
  
“Hi,” he says. “Just out of curiosity, are you going to do this every night?”  
  
Keith laughs. “You’ll have to wait and see, won’t you?”  
  
“Jerk,” Anderson grumbles.  
  
“Careful. If you’re not good, I’ll add more time on,” Keith says warningly. “Are you naked?”  
  
“No. Give me a minute.” He strips off his clothes and lies down on the bed, then picks up the phone again. “Now I am.”  
  
“Good. Now I want you to describe what you want me to do to you when you get home.”  
  
“… _Jesus Christ_ , Keith.”  
  
“And be detailed, Anderson.”  
  
With his free hand already rubbing fruitlessly at any skin he can get to through the cage, Anderson takes a deep breath and starts to talk.  
  
The call ends exactly as it did the night before. He thinks his balls might actually turn blue.  
  
  
  
Anderson’s Blackberry buzzes with an incoming text as he’s wrapping up editing on the third day. His mouth goes dry when he reads it.  
  
 _Buy some lube on your way back to the hotel._  
  
A few hours later, he’s given up on getting any research done and just lies on the bed naked with his eyes going from the lube to his phone and back again as he counts down the minutes until ten o’clock, the time Keith has called the past two nights. At ten-oh-one, he snatches the phone up before it’s even gotten through the first ring.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“Hi,” Keith says pleasantly. “Did you buy it?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Do you know what I want you to do with it?”  
  
“I can guess,” Anderson replies sardonically, staring at the lube.  
  
Keith sounds pleased. “Go on, then. And make sure to tell me what you’re doing.”  
  
He reaches forward with a shaking hand and pushes the pump on the bottle. “I’m putting some on my fingers now,” he says.  
  
“Make sure you get enough for all four,” Keith says softly, and Anderson has to close his eyes for a moment.  
  
“Okay. You want me to start with one?”  
  
“Yes. Go slow.”  
  
“Alright. I’m — mmm — I’m pushing it into me now. I’m tight, but it feels good.”  
  
“Now the second,” Keith instructs. He’s panting, but his voice still holds that commanding air that Anderson has discovered to be really fucking hot over the past few days. He obeys it automatically, and another moan slips out of his mouth.  
  
“Anderson, what are you doing?”  
  
“I have two fingers inside me,” Anderson says breathlessly. “It hurts a little, but not as much as my cock does.”  
  
“Why does your cock hurt?”  
  
“It…. it keeps trying to get hard, and it can’t. The cage hurts. Please, Keith—”  
  
“No. It’s mine. You’re not allowed to play with it if I’m not there.”  
  
“Pleeeaaase, I need to come,” he whines.  
  
“Hush,” Keith says, not harshly. “No, wait. I know. Put me on speakerphone.”  
  
Anderson considers, for half a second, refusing because he’s in a hotel room, but then he reasons that if anyone was going to overhear, they probably have already. He hits the button on his phone and sets it down on the pillow beside him. “Okay.”  
  
“Good. Now both your hands are free. Are you leaking pre-come?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Get it on your fingers, the ones that aren’t in your ass. I want you to suck on them and fuck yourself, and imagine it’s me. My dick in your ass, my fingers in your mouth. Show me how good you can be. Try to convince me to let you out. But don’t talk.”  
  
Anderson groans around the fingers that are already between his lips, lapping up the bitter fluid with his tongue.

“That’s it,” Keith says. “Push the third finger into your ass, and find your prostate.”  
  
He does, and bites down on his other fingers to keep from crying out. His hips are moving involuntarily, rocking against his hand, and it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough as long as the damn cage is on.  
  
“Now… now the fourth,” Keith says roughly, and Anderson prays he’ll come soon, because he doesn’t know how much longer he can stand this. “You can talk, but only tell me how it feels. No asking to come.”  
  
Anderson pulls his fingers, slick with spit, out of his mouth. “It feels….  _fuck_ , Keith. It feels amazing. You’re driving me insane. It —  _oh_  — even when it hurts, I don’t want it to stop. My cock is  _aching_.”  
  
“It’s not yours, it’s mine. Say it,” Keith commands.  
  
“It’s yours. My cock is yours,” Anderson pants, knowing that his words will push Keith over the edge.  
  
Sure enough, Keith swears loudly, groans, and then seems to be catching his breath. When he finally speaks again, he says, “Clean yourself up and get some sleep, Anderson.” Then he hangs up.  
  
Anderson lies for a long time afterward on sheets that are damp with his own sweat and pre-come, trying not to think about the next phone call.  
  
  
  
The fourth night, he lies ready, his cock not yet hard enough to be painful, but close. When Keith still hasn’t called by ten-thirty, he sends him a text that consists simply of a question mark. A minute later, he gets one back.  
  
 _If you had been paying attention last night, you would’ve noticed that I didn’t say ‘talk to you tomorrow’. You’ll be home in 24 hours. You can wait. Sweet dreams._  
  
Anderson resists, barely, the urge to send back a string of curses — or even his safeword. Instead he goes to take a cold shower.  
  
  
  
He’s thankful that he only has routine editing to do on the fifth day, because he would never be able to concentrate on getting a decent interview. The editor and producer both make comments about how distracted he seems, and he gives them an excuse about not sleeping well, which is the truth, though not the full story. By midafternoon, he’s on a plane home again. The flight seems to last forever, but finally he’s standing in the hallway in front of his own apartment.  
  
He’s hardly opened the door when Keith is pulling him through it and pushing him up against the wall. Anderson reaches for him, trying to pull him closer, wanting full-body contact, but Keith captures both his wrists in one large hand and pins them to the wall above his head. His eyes rake over Anderson from feet to head, then return to his groin, where Anderson is sure a damp spot must be visible from all the pre-come he’s leaking.  
  
Keith reaches forward with his other hand and deftly undoes his fly. A soft growl of approval rumbles out of him when he sees Anderson isn’t wearing anything under the jeans but the cage. He turns the little plastic lock over to read the number and is apparently satisfied that it’s the same one he put on Anderson five days earlier.  
  
“Keith, please—”  
  
“Shut up,” Keith says. “You can nod or shake your head, moan, whimper, wail, sob, even scream, but no words. Understood?”  
  
Anderson nods as his cock twitches inside its prison.  
  
“Good,” Keith says, and yanks Anderson’s jeans down to mid-thigh. Anderson angles his hips as far forward as he can with his wrists still held against the wall, in a blatant invitation to take the cage  _off already_. Keith doesn’t seem to get the message. He uses his free hand to squeeze Anderson’s ass and then dip into his crack, brushing over his hole. Anderson shudders and rocks back, fruitlessly trying to get more sensation. “I’m going to fuck you before I let you out of this cage. You’ll like that, won’t you?” Keith asks roughly.  
  
Even if Anderson were allowed to speak, he wouldn’t be able to answer that. His brain is too busy melting out of his ears at the mere thought of it. His cock, though, twitches again, and Keith sees it. His grin is one part smug and one part evil. “Yeah, you’ll fucking love it.”  
  
The next second, Anderson is away from the wall with Keith behind him, holding his wrists against his back with one hand and his shoulder with the other. He pushes him toward the bedroom. “Walk.”

Anderson does, stumbling a little because of the jeans around his legs and the way his knees are weak, but Keith keeps him on his feet. When they reach the bedroom, Keith steers him to the end of the bed, facing it, and releases his hands. “Grab the footboard,” he commands. It’s low enough that Anderson has to bend at almost a ninety-degree angle to do so. He wraps his fingers around the metal bar and holds on for dear life, because he’s seriously not sure how much longer his legs will hold out.  
  
Keith walks around him to the nightstand and takes out the lube and a condom. Anderson watches him hungrily, wishing he could tell him how fucking sexy he is, how turned on Anderson is, how much he’d like to  _be out of this goddamn cage_ , but at the same time wants it to stay on forever. His cock is already swollen to the point of being painful, but the pain isn’t making it soft at all. His head is swimming with the duel sensations.  
  
Then Keith is behind him again, pushing two lubed fingers roughly into him, and he throws his head back and  _keens_ , sure for a moment that he’s going to come despite the cage. It passes, though, leaving only aching frustration in its wake, and he realizes Keith is talking again.  
  
“So gorgeous, your mouth. Want to fuck it, use it, but not tonight. Too impatient to get inside your ass, make you whimper in need. You want it, don’t you? Want my dick inside you.”  
  
Anderson nods desperately, not even caring that he probably looks ridiculous. His mouth is still hanging open. The pressure from Keith’s fingers stroking over his prostate again and again is filling him up, leaving no room for breath. Then they’re gone, but before he can protest the loss, Keith’s cock is there, pushing in steadily, mercilessly. At the same time, he wraps both his arms around Anderson’s chest and scrapes his teeth over his shoulder blade. Anderson’s grateful for the support, because there’s no way he’d be on his feet without it. He feels boneless.  
  
“You love this,” Keith crows into his ear, breath hot. “Even when you can’t get off yourself, you just want to be fucked. You’re a whore, Anderson. My beautiful little slut.”  
  
His words mingle in the air with the sounds Anderson is making, sounds he’s never made before in his life, little half-sobbing whimpers. His cock is leaking pre-come in a steady stream now. When he looks down, he can see it, an angry red inside the clear, ungiving plastic. His balls are tight against his body,  _aching_. He’s clenching down on Keith uncontrollably on each upstroke, at the point where his cock hits Anderson’s prostate dead on, and from the way Keith’s saying “yeah, yeah,  _fuck yes_ ,” he knows it won’t be long.  
  
Then he rocks back against Keith, unable to stop the word ‘please’ escaping from his mouth half-hidden in a moan, and Keith bites down hard at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and comes. His hips stutter in their steady, pounding rhythm, and then still against Anderson’s ass.  
  
After a long moment, he starts pressing tender kisses to the deep teeth-marks he left in Anderson’s skin, murmuring “so, so good.” Then he loosens the tight hold he has on Anderson and steps back, slipping out of him. Anderson tries mindlessly to prevent it, because he’s still panting and whimpering and leaking and having trouble standing on his own.  
  
Keith’s hands close around his wrists again. “Stand up. I’ve got you,” he says, so Anderson does, and nearly falls from the head-rush. He leans back against Keith’s chest for support, and Keith holds him and talks into his ear again. “You spoke, you know. I heard you say ‘please’ just at the end there. I should leave you locked up as punishment.”  
  
Anderson closes his eyes, feeling tears run down his cheeks.  
  
“Shh, shh,” Keith says, raising a hand to brush them away. “You’re new at this, so I’m going to be forgiving. That is, if you still do  _want_  to come.”  
  
He nods so hard that his head rings, and Keith chuckles darkly.

“I thought so. Here, I’ll help you lie down,” he says, and a few seconds later, Anderson is on his back in the center of the bed. Keith runs a hand down his chest and over his abdomen, making the muscles quiver involuntarily. Then he leans over and opens the nightstand drawer again, pulling out a pair of scissors this time. He sits down beside Anderson and carefully lifts the plastic lock away from his body before cutting it off. Anderson hears the soft  _snick_  of the scissors but doesn’t dare look down for fear that he’ll go over the edge immediately. He feels the cage pulling off, his cock springing to full hardness. Keith’s hand brushes his balls, and he arches up into it.  
  
“How close are you?” Keith asks, curiosity and something unnamable in his voice. “Would you come from just me touching you?”  
  
Anderson nods again.  
  
“Close your eyes.”  
  
He looks at Keith, and is struck by the awe on his partner’s face, like he can’t believe that he has Anderson laid out before him like this. It’s hard to tear away from that expression to close his eyes, but he does.  
  
Then he  _screams_ , because there’s a hot wetness enveloping his cock, and he only has time to think  _JESUS FUCK_  before he’s coming so hard he sees white, shooting down Keith’s throat.  
  
  
A long time later, when he finds himself again, Keith is lying beside him with one arm draped over his waist and the other propping his head up so he can study Anderson.  
  
“Christ,” Anderson says, his voice rough, “my fingers are sore from hanging onto that damn footboard.”  
  
“You loved every second of it,” Keith replies, sounding possibly more smug than he ever has before.  
  
“Surprisingly, yes.”  
  
“It’s only surprising to you. I  _knew_  you’d like it.”  
  
Anderson rolls his eyes. “Of course, Keith. You know everything.”  
  
“Damn straight. So, you want to do it again?”  
  
“Not right now,” Anderson says, glancing over Keith’s shoulder to where he can see the cage resting on the nightstand. “But… yeah, I do.”  
  
“Good,” Keith says. “I want to work up to you keeping it on for a whole month.”  
  
He’s speechless for a few seconds. Finally, he manages to say, “You. Are. Evil.”  
  
Keith laughs. To Anderson’s ears, it sounds maniacal. His skin tingles pleasantly.


End file.
